


give us this day our daily sin (all my trust is paper thin)

by constellation_composer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, America is a Nerd (Hetalia), Asexual Aromantic Hong Kong, Brothers, God - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, Multi, Protective Older Brothers, References to Depression, also hes gay, america will be paired with either belarus or japan but uh ngl idk which, and so sad, belarus deserves better, body image issues, but like a cool diary story, everyone is related to england, everyone is sad, faroe islands?? did you mean: tired, gonna say it now, got a bunch of rarepairs tho so sorry, greenland and iceland have a rivalry thing, i make up historical events, iceland holds grudges, issues in general, its a diary story, its probably not what you think, latvia is an alcoholic, lithuania needs to get his emotions together, nations should never do things based on how they feel about other nations, northern ireland derseves better but also hes a dumbass, poland is insecure, sorry bout it, they're miserable, theyre all so STUPID, wales is done with his familys shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellation_composer/pseuds/constellation_composer
Summary: "How do you- how do any of you- expect to work together if we barely know each other? If we’re too angry to bother and try? Everything about us is twisted and broken and absolutely terrible and we don’t even know why! This would help, don’t you see that? This would make things better!”-America has a point. And it's not like their meeting was terribly productive before, anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so
> 
> i have no excuse
> 
> please accept my mistakes

The World Meeting was chaos. But when wasn't it, really? Latvia sighed and shifted in his seat, glancing over at Liechtenstein. Her head was leaning on her palms, her eyes drooping in boredom as Germany derailed the meeting yet again in order to prise England and France off each other. “They’re idiots,” Estonia murmured, sounding astonished, and Latvia laughed silently.

“It shocks you after all this time?” Lithuania returned in a sardonic whisper. Estonia shook his head.

“It shocks me that they haven’t grown up.” Lithuania chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Poland is pickpocketing you.”

“Wha-” Lithuania whipped his head to the side, where Poland was turning on the brunet’s phone. “Poland! Give that back!” Poland pouted and dropped it onto the table, putting his hands in the air.

“I’m bored, Liet,” he whined, and Lithuania huffed.

“Then work on writing a presentation. It’ll give you something to do.” Latvia had never seen Poland look more betrayed. He shook his head at his family’s tomfoolery, discreetly pulling his own phone out of his pocket. Immediately it buzzed with a new notification.

_emil: im gonna kms_

_emil: can we sneak out_

He snorted and glanced up at the Icelandic boy, who was seated on the far opposite of the table. He shook his head and Iceland glowered.

_emil: im going to put rice in ur shoes_

_raivis: terrifying_

_raivis: norway will notice if you try to leave tho_

_emil: fuck i forgot i wasn’t an only child_

_raivis: smart man_

“Hey, Latvia!” Iceland yelled across the table suddenly, and he slipped his phone back in his pocket, cocking his head in seemingly innocent curiosity. Iceland slammed his hands palm down on the table and leaned forward, glaring. “Shut the fuck up!”

Latvia leaned forward too, fighting to keep a grin off his face. “Never, _mana muļķīgā mīļotā_!” He called back, and Iceland pointed at him, grinning.

“I don’t know what that means, so fuck you.”

Latvia shrugged. “Kind of the translation, yeah.”

“Latvia!” Lithuania scolded immediately, looking scandalized. Estonia glanced between the two of them; he never had gotten a grasp on his younger brother’s language. It was too far removed from his own to bother.

Latvia blinked his eyes innocently. “What, _kolēģis_?” It’s a more impersonal term than he’s used for Lithuania in the past, and he saw something flicker in his brother’s eyes. “I was just making a joke.”

Lithuania glanced at Iceland and then back at him, eyebrows wrinkling together. Then he sat back in his seat and grabbed Poland’s wrist before it could slip into his pocket. “Fine,” he said, the word clipped. Latvia bit his lip, drawing back into his usual posture slowly. He hated making his brothers mad.

“America?” Russia said suddenly, very loudly, with a booming voice that brought the room to a hush. “Are you… reading?” He sounded scandalized, and Latvia giggled, grinning at the taller man. Contrary to popular belief, his relationship with Russia had been free of animosity for ages now.

The American at the other end of the table immediately slammed closed the… book? Tome? It was large and leather-bound, giving off an antiquated air that most modern books weren’t prone to. Blue eyes narrowed in Russia’s direction. “I did try to get your guys’ attention,” he replied, his voice almost an octave lower than they were used to. Perhaps the pitch heightened when he was being loud and idiotic? “But no one heard me over Germany’s lecture.”

“What is that?” England asked, narrowing his eyes at the book America was holding. America laughed, but it was a far cry from what it usually sounded like coming from him. Latvia exchanged a glance with Liechtenstein. She was sitting up straight in her chair, her fingers curling into loose fists. Was she remembering the same as him?

“It’s a book, England,” America replied, the answer simple and short. “It’s got page after page after page with writing about us.” The room was dead quiet.

“About us?” England repeated. “Can you clarify?” America flipped it back open to the first page.

“They’re diary entries or something like that, I guess. I recognize mine, I remember writing them, so I assume everyone else’s is the same.”

“But-” Before France could finish, America kept speaking.

“ _If I am not a nation, what is my purpose here? Am I a fluke of nature? Please, someone just tell me I’m not a mistake._ ” He looked up from the page he was reading and looked England in the eyes. “Sealand.”

The Brit spluttered. “I- America, what are you-”

He looked back down. “ _It’s hard being ancient_ ,” he continued, and immediately China stood.

“That is enough, America,” he instructed, and the younger nation glanced up at him once before looking back down and continuing, letting his voice grow louder over continued protest:

“ _It’s a blessing in disguise. With the good memories come bad memories. The lives that faded away before my eyes, the wars, the tragedies, and the failures. No matter how much I try, I can’t forget. Life will always remind me._ ” He paused. “I guess you know who that is.” China looked livid, but South Korea laid a hand on his arm to guide him back into his seat. The younger nation murmured quietly in his ear, and China reconstructed his calm mask, despite the tension lingering in his shoulders.

“Please put the book down,” England pleaded. “You’re upsetting people-”

America laughed loudly again, the dark sound sending a chill down Latvia’s spine. “Yeah? Clearly, they’re already upset! There’s nothing happy in this book, England! How do you- how do any of you- expect to work together if we barely know each other? If we’re too angry to bother and try? Everything about us is twisted and broken and absolutely terrible and we don’t even know why! This would help, don’t you see that? This would make things better!”

The room was silent after his rant ended.

Latvia felt his phone buzz.

_lilli: he’s right_

_raivis: yeah ik_

_raivis: but i’m not digging it_

_lilli: you keep a diary? does it mention your little problem?_

_raivis: shut up_

He can hear her scoff from seven seats away, and he scowled, shoving his phone away again. His friends sucked sometimes.

“I suppose he has a point,” Germany said slowly, and Italy shook his head violently, looking like he might cry. (What was new, though?)

“No!” He cried. “That’s private! He can’t share it!”

America held up the book. “It’s not exactly private anymore, Italy.”

“We could burn it,” Denmark suggested, smirking, and Norway smacked his arm. He just laughed. “It would privatise it again.”

“You don’t even keep a diary,” Norway replied. “Stay out of it.” Denmark grinned and shrugged.

“Whatever you say, dear.”

“Don’t call me that.”

America trailed his finger down the page. “It sure would be a shame if only I knew this stuff, huh?”

It takes a second before that sinks in.

“Was that a threat?” England asked, incredulous. “For God’s sake, America.”

America shrugged. “ _She’s not that bad, really,_ ” he said slowly, letting his eyes drop down onto the page. Latvia’s stomach lurched. Oh _God_ no, anything else. “ _They don’t understand her. They call her creepy, insane, messed up. How do none of them understand? Everyone has someone they cling to. Sure, some are less… violent than the way Belarus clings to Russia, but pure, unadulterated terror is all it is, don’t they see that? Don’t they know how terrifying it is to be alone? Does France not remember the pain of Jeanne’s burning? Does America not remember the first night he spent in his own country after the Revolution? Does Lithuania not remember the way he cried and yelled and fell to pieces after his commonwealth with Poland did the same?_ ” America paused for a long second, taking a deep breath. “ _I’d never write this if I was sober, but I’m beginning to hate the world for what they say about her. That’s my family. She’s more of a sibling to me than the others ever were. Russia has protected me; he’s cared for me. Who else has done the same? God, I need to stop drinking. I get far too sentimental. Then again, when do I write in here if I’m not drunk and sentimental?_ ” The room was absolutely silent. “I told you. Nothing happy in here.”

“Who wrote that?” Belarus asked; her voice was much softer than anyone expected. She sounded almost affectionate if he wasn’t mistaken.

America cleared his throat and looked back down at the book. “Latvia.”

Estonia’s hands tightened into fists beneath the table; Lithuania’s back stiffened straighter than the chair he sat in. Belarus just nodded and looked over at him, a hint of a smile on her face. “Thank you for calling me your sister, _Latvija_ ,” she said, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “Even if it was just because you were drunk and sentimental.”

“If he’s only sentimental when he’s drunk, no wonder he’s such a crybaby,” Liechtenstein snapped suddenly. Latvia heard Lithuania draw in a sharp breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped back, whipping his head around to glare at her. She narrowed her eyes.

“You know exactly what it means,” she hissed. “Austria stopped stocking alcohol in his house because of you.” Austria sighed softly.

“Liechtenstein, now isn’t the time,” the older man said, but Lithuania interrupted, his eyes boring holes into Latvia’s face.

“Now is exactly the time.” Latvia looked away, glancing down at his hands. “I think my brothers and I have need to have some private counsel,” Lithuania continued. “Please, go on with the reading without us. Unless there’s anything we need to know at the moment?”

“No, the next three are from people who aren’t here,” America replied, and Lithuania nodded sharply, getting to his feet.

“We’ll be back. Estonia, Latvia, come on.” Belarus stood and followed them as they pushed open the conference room door. Latvia slipped his hand into hers, trying to stop the tremors.

He needed a drink. Somehow, he doubted he was going to get one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry??? sorry
> 
> latvia is sad
> 
> i fuck with peoples ages bc i can & i wanted moldova to have long hair. sorry bout it, mates
> 
> also, greenland exists and the ending is bad
> 
> its all bad, actually, sorry

The four of them are in a room down the hall, where there was a fire and a couch and an alcohol cabinet in the corner.

His eyes kept drifting over to it. Lithuania’s face hardened more each time.

“So,” his oldest brother began, fixing him with a glare that could puncture steel, “care to explain, Latvia?”

He swallowed hard and stared down at his hands. Belarus’ hand in on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch, seeking comfort. “Explain what?” His voice was weak, fragile. How did his family always manage to reduce him to this?

“The entry. Liechtenstein’s comment. How often do you visit Austria’s house?”

“Not often anymore,” he admitted quietly. “I used to go to listen to Liechtenstein’s piano lessons.”

“And to get a drink?” It was phrased like a question, but it was more of an accusation than anything. Latvia’s arms curled around his middle, his nails digging slightly into his sides.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice even quieter than before. “That too.”

The fire crackled. Lithuania leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, his hands twitching- out of anxiety or anger, Latvia wasn’t sure. Estonia cleared his throat.

“Latvia,” he began, and the other three turned their gazes to him. He took off his glasses and polished them on his shirt before sliding them back on and looking his little brother in the eyes. “When did you start drinking?”

Oh god.

Latvia blinked at him, and then glanced away. “I-” his throat is stuck. Belarus’ hand is beginning to feel restrictive instead of comforting, and he can’t repress a shiver that races up his spine. “I’d rather not say.”

“You don’t get to dodge the question,” Lithuania snapped, and Estonia held up a hand as if to shush him. His eyes turned back to the youngest Baltic, who was shuddering so hard he thought he might fall to pieces right there.

“Latvia, when did you start drinking?” Estonia asked again, scooted a little closer on the couch to grasp Latvia’s trembling hand. “You don’t have to tell me why, okay? Just tell me when.”

Latvia swallowed hard and grasped Estonia’s hand tightly. “1570s, I guess,” he murmured. “1569.”

Automatically, Estonia understood.

Lithuania didn’t. His face wrinkled in confusion. “1569? What happened in 1569?”

“What, have you gone senile in your old age?” Latvia jabbed, and Lithuania’s eyes narrowed. The younger boy immediately looked away, muttering a quick apology too quiet for his brother to hear.

“So you’re saying this has to do with… the Commonwealth?” Lithuania was uncomfortable talking about, that much was obvious. His entire body was tense, his arms folded stiffly across his chest. Latvia nodded slowly. “How? You didn’t have anything to do with it.” Despite knowing the innocent, curious nature of the comment, Latvia felt his entire chest seize up in a moment of cold regret.

He cleared his throat. “You said I didn’t have to talk about why.”

Belarus’ hand lifted from his shoulder and settled on his head, smoothing his hair. “Can you try, _Latvija_?” She asked. “I know he’s acting angry, but he’s just worried. There’s no need to be afraid.” She knew why he was shaking. She’d seen him break down too many times.

Estonia’s grip tightened on his hand. “Afraid of what?” Lithuania got up from his chair, crossing the space between them in a few quick strides and kneeling on the floor beside his brother. He grasped Latvia’s other hand. Latvia looked away.

“When the Commonwealth started, you left,” he said, avoiding Estonia’s question. The blond nation obviously noticed, his lips tightening into a straight line, but he accepted Latvia’s alternate explanation without complaint. “I wasn’t expecting- I knew you and Poland were close, but I didn’t know you were going to leave. It felt like Prussia all over again.” Lithuania’s grip on his hand tightened. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t know Belarus or Russia, or at least I didn’t know them well, and Estonia and I aren’t exactly close, we never have been, because he’s a genius and everything and I’m just me but you’d always been kind to me even if sometimes it felt like pity and all the sudden you were gone and I didn’t really have anyone but I stopped by your house once and you’d left something upon on the counter and I just-” his flow of words paused for a moment, and he stared at the ceiling, steadfastly avoiding their eyes. “Poland walked in,” he began again slowly, and Lithuania’s hand tensed in his. “And he found me drunk out of my fucking mind and he…” he stopped and took a breath. “He got angry. He told me that I had to leave, because you couldn’t see me like that, but the next day he came round my house and apologized for yelling and he asked me to promise that I wouldn’t do it again.” He laughed, but it wasn’t really a laugh. “I guess I kept my promise. I’ve never stolen from you again.”

Lithuania drew in a breath in an angry hiss. “That’s not funny,” he said, but his grip didn’t loosen on Latvia’s hand.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Latvia,” Estonia began suddenly. “You know I love you?” It was so sudden and out of the blue that Latvia couldn’t do anything but stare blankly at him. Estonia had never said anything of the sort before, and it was truthfully a bit startling. The middle Baltic cleared his throat. “I just- you said something about how we aren’t close.”

“Right,” Latvia agreed. “Because you’re a genius and I’m an idiot.”

He didn’t quite understand why Estonia’s grip automatically tightened, but he winced and immediately the older boy loosened it again. “You’re not an idiot.” Latvia scoffed and leaned his head back against Belarus’ shoulder. “Latvia, look at me.” Estonia’s eyes were narrowed, something in them that he hadn’t seen before. “You’re not.”

“I never pitied you,” Lithuania added softly, and then stood, pulling gently on Latvia’s arm. “Here, brother, come here.” Lithuania hadn’t given him a hug in a long, long time, not since the Second World War ended and all of them were crying with happiness. Latvia clung to him, burying his face in his brother’s chest, and felt himself shaking; those hands that frightened him so rubbed up and down his back, words murmured in low Lithuanian in his ear. He heard Estonia stand, and then there were hands resting on his shoulders and Russian (the only language the two of them shared) muddling with the other words. He couldn’t quite understand what they were saying with both speaking different languages at the same time, but he closed his eyes and let himself be comforted.

“I love you, little brother,” Lithuania murmured, and Latvia tightened his grip, feeling tears threaten to spill.

“I love you too,” he whispered; and cursed the fragility of his voice.

\--

Iceland watched as the Baltics left, Belarus following close behind, and he prayed that somehow, Latvia would be helped by it. He’s been losing sleep over his little broken friend for far too long. Next to him, Denmark was folding a piece of paper over and over into different shapes, his fingers flitting uncontrollably and his eyes narrowed on his task. He was anxious.

Iceland thought about reaching out to give a comforting touch, but his hand wouldn’t move, so he settled for staring at America. Oddly enough, the blond was staring back at him. He blinked.

“What?” he asked. America cleared his throat.

“I just…” he trailed off. “Never mind.” Iceland raised his eyebrows, but accepted it and leant back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. Was Latvia okay?

_Of course he’s okay_ , his mind supplied, totally unhelpful as usual. _He’s with his family._

Then again, Latvia was terrified of his family.

“What’s the next one, America?” Spain asked. He shrugged in response to the questioning looks. “America is right. If we want to work together, we have to understand each other.”

America looked back down at the page. “I’ve never actually met this person,” he admitted. “As I said, they aren’t here.” He cleared his throat and began. “ _Iceland came over yesterday. I don’t understand why he continues to do so. He told me he hated me, and he knows I hate him… why does he keep visiting?_ ”

Oh. That's why America had been staring at him.

The nation in question glanced up at him. “So you and Greenland have a rivalry, huh?”

Iceland shrugged. “You could say that. It’s really more mutual repulsion and stubbornness, but either way, she’s a nightmare and makes me want to slit my throat, so.” Denmark snorted and patted his shoulder.

“How very kind of you, brother dear,” someone remarked sarcastically, and Iceland felt his entire body stiffen. Oh, fuck no.

She was leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes fixed on him. Her hair was tied back. It wasn’t usually tied back, was it? She was wearing a sweatshirt he’d picked up for cheap at the thrift store in Riga.

“That’s mine,” he muttered, and she shrugged.

“I was cold and you left it on the couch,” she dismissed, and entered the room, coming around the table to stand behind him. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, her chin on top of his head. His entire body was tense. “So, what’s going on?”

“America has a book of fucking diary entries,” Denmark explained. “Pull up a chair, will you? We’re prying into each other’s lives to achieve world peace.”

“I can tell you’re very enthusiastic about this plan,” she replied drily, reaching behind her and pulling a chair from thin air. She settled it next to Denmark’s, leaning her head over onto his shoulder. “How did America get the book, though?”

Iceland blinked. They hadn’t thought to ask that, had they?

America flushed. “It was in my hotel room this morning,” he replied. “I was reading it when the meeting got boring, but Russia pointed it out- did you pull that chair out of thin air?”

Greenland rolled her eyes. “It’s called magic, dumbass. I’m not completely hopeless.” She smirked slightly, tossing her twin a condescending look. “I’m not _Iceland._ ” He felt his cheeks flush bright red.

“Shut the fuck up!” She reached over and patted his shoulder in mock comfort.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she said, and he smacked her hand away from him. She smirked again. “I’m sure you’ll get somewhere above three brain cells someday.”

Romania whistled long and low. “Damn, Denny,” he remarked. “You never mentioned that she looked so much like Norway.”

It was true. Greenland had the same pale hair, the same smooth skin, the same slender limbs. There was a similarity in the fragility of their brow and the sharpness of their shoulders; they mirrored each other in the downturn of their lips and the natural narrowness of their waists. Beyond all that, though, Greenland had those same eyes, dark indigo, full of absolutely nothing that they became a kind of void. Her eyes were what Iceland hated most about her; how dare she have Norway’s eyes? How dare this monster look anything like his Big Brother?

“Didn’t seem important,” Denmark replied. “She’s Scandinavian, he’s Scandinavian, I’m Scandinavian. All the same to me.”

That’s an outright lie. Iceland rolled his eyes. “What’s the next one?” he asked America, eager to move on to a subject that had nothing to do with his godforsaken twin. The blond nation flipped the page.

“Wales,” he said with a frown. “This one’s a bit long.” Iceland saw England’s shoulders tense and Ireland’s fingers close around his pencil like a lifeline, knuckles fading to white. This ought to be interesting.

“ _North had another nightmare tonight. He was screaming, crying; he thrashed so much that he slammed his hand into a lamp and shattered it into his hand. He spent twenty minutes apologizing. Doesn’t he get by now that I don’t care about the fucking lamp? I don’t care about the broken mugs that he drops when he has a panic attack. I don’t care about the picture he smashed when his knees gave out the other day. I just want him to be safe. I've heard him shriek almost every night he’s been here- is it the same when he’s at home? Is this a lonely ritual he constantly suffers through? If it is, I can’t let him leave. He’ll despise me if I have him live here with me, call me overprotective, I’m sure, but I can’t let him get hurt without being there to help. Yesterday I mentioned Ireland when I was talking to Scotland on the phone, and North had to leave the room. Sometimes, the sound of his own accent makes him jump. Why does God let him suffer this way?_ ”

Utter silence.

Ireland’s face was contorted into some strange mix of fear and shame, like his entire world had just been flipped upside down. England didn’t look much better; Iceland scowled. Served them right. No one should have to be frightened of their family. He’d lived through that, thank you very much, and it was hell beyond the devil’s imagining. He tried to help Northern Ireland and Latvia as much as he could; but in the end, he couldn’t change jackshit if their siblings didn’t change too.

That was why they were reading this, right? To help them change? Thank the gods for that.

America swallowed hard and looked back down at the page. “Should we move on?” he asked, his voice unnaturally quiet, and England nodded quickly, reaching over to grasp Ireland’s hand. The older man was staring vacantly at the table, unblinking, looking absolutely devoid of anything but despair.

America started reading the next one without announcing whose it was. “ _Moldova is a brat and I’m going to kick him into hell if he doesn’t stop pestering me. What does he care who I’m friends with? I’d rather hang myself than hang with Luxembourg, but I don’t criticize Dova for it. Our choices are our own choices. Fucking bastard. Hong Kong is a cool guy._ ”

Moldova rolled his eyes. “I never said he couldn’t be friends with Hong, I told him not to blow up my car. It was reasonable.”

Hungary gave him a strange look. “Moldova?” The boy looked over at her, his eyes wide and childish. He cocked his head to the side in an invitation for questioning. “Why do you have a car? You’re only twelve, that’s not old enough to drive.”

Romania blinked. “Wait, yeah, what the fuck, Dov?” Iceland had never heard him curse in front of his brother before. Moldova glanced between the two of them with raised eyebrows.

“You’re kidding, right?” When their incredulous looks didn’t abide (in fact, more joined them), Moldova paused in his movement and put his head in his hands. “Oh my god.” His shoulders began to tremble with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Bulgaria asked, his brow wrinkling. Moldova threw his head back, laughing even harder. Across the table, Iceland could see Liechtenstein grinning.

The door opened, revealing the returning Baltics and Belarus. Lithuania leaned over to Poland once he’d gotten to his seat, whispering something in the blonde man’s ear. Poland shrugged. Latvia slid into the seat between his brothers (that was new. Usually Estonia sat in the middle.) and gave Iceland a tired smile across the table. His eyes caught sight of Greenland, who was grinning shamelessly at Moldova, and he frowned. Iceland shook his head.

“Dov, seriously, what are you laughing about?” Romania asked, looking at his little brother like he’d never seen him before. Moldova sat back up straight, breathing in hard for a couple seconds and trying to maintain his composure.

“Liechtenstein?” he asked, and the girl perked up. “I- I don’t think I can talk-” he started laughing again but slapped a hand over his mouth until he could form words. “You- you think you could explain?”

“Of course!” Liechtenstein explained brightly, and folded her hands neatly in front of her on the table, sitting up ramrod straight with a grin. “Alright!” Switzerland gave her an odd look. “Now, I’m sure some of you- Austria, of course, Denmark, Belarus, figured it out already, but basically, nations can shift their age.” She paused for a second, tilting her head. “Did that make sense? Probably not. Technically speaking, our physical bodies aren’t really all that solid, because we’re always changing alongside our people. So in reality, if you learn how, you can appear however old you want, as long as it’s within the restraints of your nation’s existence. Since most countries are so old, that means the grand majority of us can appear whatever age we like. Moldova and I rarely appear as young as we do now, but somewhere along the line we figured out that younger nations fade easily into the background, and we could do whatever we liked because no one was really watching.” She shrugged. “There goes that plan, I guess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Australia said, sitting up straight. “How old are you guys normally?”

Liechtenstein tilted her head and bit her lip, thinking. “Around 15, I guess,” she replied. “On the young end of it, though. Dova is usually a bit older than me. He and Lux like to be the same age.”

Moldova got himself under enough control to send Luxembourg a heart with his hands. The blond rolled his eyes, but he returned the gesture. Romania stared at his brother in disbelief.

“Can you do it now?” Australia asked, looking like a child on Halloween. Liechtenstein shrugged and looked over at Switzerland.

“Is that okay, Big Brother?” she asked sweetly. He blinked a few times and nodded.

“I don’t control what you do,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Just don’t get hurt.” She grinned brightly and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you!”

It was a very odd thing to see. The transition was instantaneous- it happened so quickly, it almost seemed like it didn’t happen at all, like she’d looked this way all along and you simply hadn’t been looking hard enough. Iceland and Greenland looked over at each other with matching bored expressions.

“Elementary magic,” she muttered, and he rolled his eyes.

“They’re so _proud_ of it, too.”

Disdain for others was generally the one thing they could agree upon.

Moldova’s hair tended to get longer when he was older for some unfathomable reason, and he scowled, reaching up to push it out of his eyes. “Liech, do you have a hair tie?” She rolled her eyes and pulled one from her pocket sliding it across the table.  
“Thanks!” he exclaimed, pulling it back.

“Hey, Moldova?” Romania said slowly, like something had just occurred to him. The other looked over, his eyes still just as childish as before. “Who wrote that entry?”

Moldova hummed and grinned. “What are you, stupid?” Romania scowled. “I’m kidding, Big Brother. It was Transylvania.”

Greenland visibly shuddered. “No offence, Mol, but your brother sucks ass,” she said. Iceland saw Lithuania and Estonia jolt as they noticed her for the first time. Latvia giggled softly.

_Adorable._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> italy wants to read! face has a bonding moment, prussia has mental health issues, and denmark's son shows up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sooooo short i'm sorry but its been ages so i needed to post it

“Hey, hey! Can I read some?” Italy asked excitedly, bouncing up and down in his seat. “It’s not fair that America gets to read it all!”

America laughed loudly and closed the book, sliding it across the table. “Sure thing, dude!” Italy basically squealed, flipping the book open, and Germany’s lips curled into a small smile as he watched his friend.

“Okay!” Italy announced, tracing his finger down the page until he found the next entry. “Some of these might be sad, but that’s okay, because that just means we can help them feel better! So don’t be scared if it’s your entry, okay?” His eyes gave the page a quick once over. “Poland!”

The blond nation blinked, his eyes widening. “Like, me?” he frowned. Lithuania reached over and gently took the Pole’s hand in his own, squeezing it gently. “ _Sometimes_ ,” Italy began, “ _I wonder if anyone really needs me. It would be so nice to just lay down and sleep forever. All they ever do is make fun of me and push me around, anyway. Would they even care if I was gone?_ ”

“Excuse me?” Lithuania looked like his world was crumbling, and Poland winced, reaching for his friend.

“Look, like, Liet-” before he could finish, Lithuania had looped his arm around his friend’s shoulders and pulled him tightly against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of Poland’s head. On his other side, Czechia reached over to squeeze his knee, giving her northern neighbour a sad smile. The blond settled into his friend’s hold and gestured for Italy to continue.

“Let’s see. Um… oh! This is America!” The blond-haired nation groaned loudly, letting his head fall onto the table. Italy giggled. “ _I don't know why everyone assumes I can't cook! It's like they think Papa didn't teach me anything at all. I'm fairly good at it, if I do say so myself_.” The Italian grinned as he finished reading. “I didn't know you liked to cook, America! Maybe we can have lunch together sometime! That sounds fun, doesn't it, Germany?” Germany smiled faintly.

“Yes, Italy, that does sound fun,” he agreed. “Would it be alright with you, America?” The blond lit up, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin.

“That sounds awesome, guys!” he exclaimed. “Can't wait! What's the next entry, Ita-dude?” England shook his head reprovingly at the nickname, but there was a smile playing on his lips.

Italy frowned. “It’s… Prussia's.” His brow wrinkled. “Um… it's really short.” He cleared his throat. “It just says… _I don't want to be alive anymore_.”

Germany’s hands clenched tightly; Hungary’s lips pressed into a line; Italy was frowning; Austria’s knuckles turned white around his pencil; Denmark and America exchanged a look.

“I don't think I consented to this,” a voice commented drily. Prussia sauntered up behind Germany's chair, leaning onto his brother's shoulders and flashing the blond a grin. “Stop looking so serious, guys. Everyone has low points sometimes.” Denmark opened his mouth, but Prussia raised an eyebrow at him, and he closed it again without saying anything. Greenland flicked her hand to conjure a chair next to Germany's. “Ah! Danke,” Prussia exclaimed. “You're Den's kid, right?”

She gave him a two finger salute and smiled at Denmark, who grinned back. Iceland scowled at the table. Greenland shot her twin a vindictive smirk as Denmark turned away. Iceland ignored it and pulled out his phone.

_emil: yo levi come on over to the meeting place, green's here_

Italy flipped the page. “It's America again!” The blond flinched, barely noticeable, but Canada gave him a worried look, reaching out to take his brother's hand. “ _Who even are my parents? I'm starting to think I don't have any. Maybe I am unwanted, after all._ ”

England drew in a sharp breath, his back stiffening. Canada squeezed his twin’s hand tightly, trying to get America to raise his eyes up from the table. Sweden and Finland exchanged a concerned look. France, though, was the first to stand, coming around the table to crouch by America's chair, taking the boy’s free hand between his. “ _Mon fils_ , I will always be your father,” he said softly. “And as will England. We may not be your caretakers anymore, but we want you to be our son. We are your family, _mon cher_. We love you.” America laughed quietly, squeezing France's hand.

“Thank you, Papa,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you too.” His eyes drifted up and across the table, where Finland was watching him, hands flitting about nervously, eyebrows knitted together, and he nodded, because he understood what the Finn ached to say. Finland relaxed and gave his son a soft smile; Sweden inclined his head slightly in America’s direction. I love you, his eyes said. I'm proud of you. I respect what you've become.

America sat up straighter.

“Does this make him our cousin?” Iceland whispered in Greenland’s ear, and she shrugged.

“I guess we'll know if we're related if he starts asking for money,” she whispered back, and Iceland choked on repressed laughter. Denmark gave the two of them a curious look, but they shook their heads, grinning at each other. He shrugged.

England cleared his throat. “I understand that I'm not… the ideal parent,” he began, staring at the table. “But… you are very precious to me, America, and I consider you my son as much as I ever did when you lived with me.”

America smiled. “You don't have to be all awkward about it, Iggy. I love you too.” He grinned at Canada, who smiled back and tightened his grip on his twin's hand. “Thanks, bro,” he whispered. Canada nodded.

Prussia leaned over and took the book from Italy’s hands. “Who's next?” Italy pouted, but relinquished it, busying his hands by playing with Germany’s sleeve instead. “Hm… oh!” He burst out laughing. “Denny!”

The Nordics all gave Denmark inquisitive looks, and the man in question had his eyebrows raised and a grin growing on his face. “Yeah, man?” Prussia looked like he couldn't breathe with how hard he was laughing.

Germany leaned over to read over his shoulder and had to look away, biting his lip to stifle a laugh. “Of course,” he said, trying to sound disappointed but unable to hide his amusement. “I would expect no less from you, Denmark.”

“What is it?” Iceland asked, leaning forward onto his elbows. “I'm intrigued.”

Greenland snickered to herself. “But aren't you supposed to be-” she paused, grinning at him, “ _cold?_ ”

Iceland stared at her, all emotion dropping from his face. “Was that a fucking ice pun?”

Greenland was laughing too hard to answer.

Prussia snickered, but cleared his throat and regained control of himself. “ _I_ ,” he began very dramatically, “ _am a SLUT for Heathers the Musical._ ”

Iceland burst out laughing and had to bite down on his hand to stop himself, almost toppling sideways out of his chair as Greenland grabbed his shoulder for support. Norway buried his face in his hands, partially to portray his disappointment, partially to hide the curve to his lips. Finland was laughing as loudly as Iceland (and most of the room), leaning onto his husband as he shook with mirth. Sweden was giving his brother a look somewhere between confusion, amusement, and irritation that only served to make Denmark grin unrepentantly at him.

“For a second, I thought it was just going to say “I am a slut” and I thought, ‘Well, that's Mom for you,’” a voice commented, and the room jumped, eyes honing in on the boy was suddenly sitting between Greenland and Denmark. He grinned and gave Iceland a two finger salute. “Hej, bro. You called?”

Iceland gave a little wave. “Hey, ‘Ro. Just thought you'd wanna be here.” The kid nodded, leaning his cheek onto his fist and surveying the table. Germany cleared his throat.

“Hallo. Would you care to introduce yourself?” he asked, trying to sound formal despite his raucous laughter moments before. The boy gave him a crooked smirk.

“Færoe Islands,” he introduced. “Icey texted me and told me to come, so I figured I might as well.” His eyes slid to Denmark. “Just in time to hear Denny being a nerd, as always.”

Denmark laughed and tugged the kid into his side in quick half-hug. “Missed you too, kiddo,” he teased, ruffling Færoe’s hair. The boy shoved him goodnaturedly. He looked like Denmark, in a way- he was much smaller, still a teenager, and his hair was bleached blond, but he had the same sparkling eyes and easy grin, with the same lean grace in the way he moved. The resemblance was obvious.

“Wait,” Poland said suddenly, pushing himself off Lithuania's shoulder and waving a finger around. “Wait a minute. Do you have kids?”

Denmark looked at him like he was an idiot. “Yes? Do you not?”

Poland paused and looked thoughtful. “You know, I think that’s, like, a matter of opinion-” Lithuania choked, clearly shocked by the answer, and the rest of the room took that as their cue to start debating.

Chaos, as they say, reigned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leaves ideas on what you'd like to see in the comments! not all of it might fit with what i have planned, but i might be able to incorporate it!!
> 
> ily all <3


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